“Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away” — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
When I am fortunate enough to visit a really good market, Rialto in Venice for example, or Borough Market in London, the produce that stands out is that which has a brief seasonal presence and then promptly disappears. The all-year-round stalwarts like onions, carrots and potatoes don’t have anything like the sex appeal of those rare migrants with a short shelf life. To quote from Blade Runner (1982) (and to paraphrase Edna St Vincent Millay), “the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long”.
Radicchio is one of those miraculous ingredients — ubiquitous in Italy, rare in the UK — that really does get my pulse racing when I find it at the market or greengrocer, usually from December to March. When the bounty is this precious, it is important not to mess around with it too much. The phrase “keep it simple” couldn’t be more apposite.
Take a glance at the Saint-Exupéry quote again. It applies to food, sure, but also to so much of what we experience in life, art and science. Mathematicians will tell you that the most beautiful numbers are the primes — those that are only divisible by themselves or one. Chemists reserve their greatest admiration for the elements of the periodic table; chemicals so pure they can’t be made any simpler. How much more elegant is O (chemical symbol for pure oxygen) than CH3CH2OH (chemical symbol for a double G&T)? And in literature, while the novel is the juggernaut of verbal artistic expression, essential beauty is only really found in poetry, the sparsest literary form and the most emotional and elegant.
What I find particularly appealing about radicchio, certainly above its more common relative, chicory, is the inherent bitterness and, once cooked, the secondary sweetness. It is culinary alchemy. I’m convinced that the success of the Negroni, Italy’s most famous cocktail, is due in no small part to the fact that the drink achieves with spirits and vermouths what Mother Nature conjures effortlessly in radicchio.
This recipe is a delicious assembly of strong flavours that do justice to the stunningly bitter radicchio without overpowering it. If you struggle to find the Tardivo variety, you can use the torpedo-shaped Treviso. Speck is a tasty prosciutto from Alto Adige but, once again, you could substitute it with any good, salty, cured ham. Make sure you allow the ham and the Gorgonzola to come up to room temperature before using.
Radicchio, speck and Gorgonzola bruschetta
Makes four
• 4 slices sourdough (20cm long, 2cm thick)
• 1 small head Treviso or Tardivo radicchio
• 8 very thin slices speck
• 75g Gorgonzola cheese
• Half a clove of garlic
• Extra virgin olive oil
• Flaky sea salt
• Black pepper
• Small palmful chopped flat leaf parsley
Method
1. Toast the sourdough slices under a medium grill, turning once, until the surface of the bread is only just starting to turn golden. Rub one side of each slice briefly with the halved garlic. Set aside.
2. Separate about 16 fronds of radicchio from the head. Keep the remainder to roast later (or chop into a crunchy salad). Heat a good glug of olive oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. Gently sauté the radicchio with a generous pinch of salt until the purple leaves start to turn a warm reddish-brown, the colour of an aged Barolo. Remove and set aside on kitchen paper.
3. Take the four toasted sourdough slices, and layer the speck evenly on top of each. Crumble half the Gorgonzola gently between your fingers and thumb and scatter on top. Carefully place the wilted radicchio fronds onto the cheese.
4. Distribute the remaining Gorgonzola, drizzle on a little olive oil and finish with the chopped parsley and a flourish of freshly ground black pepper. (For a special treat, enjoy these bruschette with a Campari Spritz — they make beautifully bitter bedmates.)
Venice: Four Seasons of Home Cooking (Fig Tree) by Russell Norman is out on 29 March
